


As Sure As The Sun Does Burn

by agberts



Category: DCU
Genre: Bruce Wayne's various attempts at fatherhood, First Kiss, M/M, Minor Character Death, SuperBat, Writing articles about your best friend, batfamily, daily planet crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4378979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agberts/pseuds/agberts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark is assigned to write an article about Bruce Wayne's newest squeeze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Clark Attempts to Write an Article

**Author's Note:**

> I've written most of this already so the next few chapters will be posted over the next few days.
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy Clark Kent being confused.

Perry White points an accusatory finger at an unsuspecting Clark Kent. The reporter flinches back and flushes, partly playing a character and partly because he’s actually terrified of his editor.

“You’ve done some piece for our Gotham page,” White shouted. Clark nodded and adjusted his glasses nervously. “I want you to take over Strayner’s assignment while he’s in the hospital.”

White turned to the next reporter with the next assignment and Kent was summarily forgotten. An intern ran the flashdrive from White to Clark and his desk. Not wanting additional work, Clark immediately sat down and plugged the USB into his computer.  
A series of articles from society rags and sensational magazines popped up onto the screen. “Sir,” Clark called out, confusing trumping his common sense. “What was Strayner’s assignment?”

“Bruce Wayne’s got a new squeeze and marketing says that the Daily Planet needs to get that exclusive,” White replied in the lull between scaring young reporters. “So get on it.”

Clark stared at his screen, still confounded. How could Bruce have a new relationship? Every moment he was not working, Clark was at the Mansion. Bruce hadn’t brought anyone home in months. Because Clark would have noticed. 

 

But above all else, Clark was a journalist and he would write this story if there was no alternative.

 

Writing the piece felt like an invasion of Bruce’s privacy. Clark knew all too well Bruce’s self imposed rules that dictated all of the man’s interactions with other human beings. One of the most important rules was not to let any relationship get too serious. Bruce made sure he never got close enough with a romantic partner that he felt compelled to reveal his secret identity. This rule, Clark assumed, came from the experiences that Bruce had had in the past when his passions ran unchecked.

Clark was too aware of Bruce Wayne to write anything about him. That’s why his pieces about the Gotham page had fallen flat in recent years. That’s why Strayner had been assigned the piece originally and not Clark despite Clark’s history of writing about Bruce Wayne. That’s why he fumed at Perry White for giving him the piece.

To write, Clark simply closed his eyes and started typing. Every time he typed the name Wayne, he pretended that he was typing someone else’s name. Still, Clark found it hard to even pretend to ruminate on the possible starlets and actresses working their way through Gotham City who could be dating Bruce Wayne. Clark googled who was performing at the Opera House and knew instinctively that no one from the “Southern Covenant Choir” would really tempt Bruce Wayne.

Clark tried not to question why he knew that Bruce preferred not to date singers. He tried to forget that Bruce Wayne had told him one night over drinks that every damn singer at the Opera House brought him back to the night his parents were killed whether it was opera or not.

Still, Clark wrote the piece.

 

Rayner and Lois showed up at his desk right before their lunch break was about to begin. “Smallville, did you get your landline disconnected?” Lois asked.

Clark looked up from yet another article about Bruce Wayne. “Yeah, I’m never in the apartment anymore so I decided not to waste anymore money on it. Why, did you call?”

Rayner laughed. “When did you get a social life? Cause you’re definitely not spending that time in the office. Am I right?” The two older reporters ignored him.

“I just wanted to know if you had finished that Park piece,” Lois explained.

Before Clark could question the veracity of the statement, Rayner clapped his hands together and grinned. “Let’s go get sandwiches and Clark can tell us what’s got him out on the town!”

 

They eat at a shop across the street and down a block. It’s clean and the food’s passable, basically what one could expect from a sandwich shop outside of New York City. It’s run by an older couple who give discounts to cops, veterans, and investigative journalists. Clark loved the charm, Lois loved the distance from work, and Rayner loved that journalistic discount.

Lois and Rayner pressed Clark for information and their success was a testament to their - well, Lois’ - skills in journalism. 

“A friend just won full custody of his son and I’m there as a neutral party,” Clark relented. “The son is not my friend’s biggest fan.”

Lois cooed in solidarity and Rayner pushed for the name of this mysterious friend.

“You should invite your friend’s son to work some time,” Lois suggested.

Clark was aghast. “Lois, you know this friend. He’s the gloomy one. I fear casualties if I brought his son to the office.”

Lois turned to Rayner. “Don’t you need to go to the bathroom?”

Rayner stood up immediately. “Now that you mention it,” he said, already halfway to the bathroom. Most of the pavlovian training that Rayner went through as an intern at the Daily Planet had yet to fade.

“No wonder you’ve left the apartment,” Lois said. “I’ve never met his son but knowing the father even professionally is more than enough.”

Clark shrugged. “I mean, would you turn down an offer to stay in a house like that?” he asked. Lois laughed.

“I concede your point,” she replied.

Rayner returned to find Clark and Lois discussing the newest best-selling novel. “How’s the Bruce Wayne bit going?” he asked as he settled back into the booth.

Clark said, “It’s a fluff piece that I’m thankfully almost ready to send up to the editors. I’m sure that Strayner will want the opportunity to write a real version of the piece when he comes back to work.” He took a bite of his sandwich to mask his frown of dislike that came with thinking about that damned piece.

“So does Brucie have a real relationship?” Lois asked, teasingly of course. When did Lois ever do anything that was a dig at Clark?

“Of course not,” Clark replied. “It’s the same old rumors that surround every rich single man once every few months.”


	2. In Which Clark Attempts to Parent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as promised, another chapter one day later.

Damian Wayne stalked into the offices of the Daily Planet. The security guards chasing after him were a testament to just how upset the boy really was. Clark spotted Damian from across the room. For a moment that lasts less than a second, Clark hoped that the boy had come to the Daily Planet for some unfathomable reason that had nothing to do with him. His hopes were shattered when Damian caught sight of him and met his gaze. Clark shot the boy a look that he hoped Damian would interpret as “I am in my Clark Kent persona right now and we don’t actually know each other well enough for you to be visiting me at work”.

Damian raced straight for Clark despite any looks, glances, or body language that would hing against such behaviors. “Clark,” he wailed as he barreled into the much larger man. Many of Clark’s coworkers turned to stare.

Between heavy pants, a security guard asked, “Do you know this kid?”

“I know him,” Clark replied to the guard. More for Damian’s benefit than anything else, he added, “Well enough to know that his dad will be pissed to know that he’s here.” Damian burst into tears, silently heaving against Clark. The reporter scooped the boy up into his arms and gave the room an apologetic look. 

“I can take him home. I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding,” Clark said for the benefit of his pride if nothing else. He fully expected a phone call from Lois later demanding that he explain the day’s short circus.

Clark took Damian to his empty apartment. Clark himself only stopped by once a week to gather his mail. He liked having his own space in Metropolis and the rent was reasonable considering he didn’t use any electricity.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Clark asked. He tried to use the same tone of voice his father used when they had their heart to hearts. They were sitting on the couch and Damian still hadn’t stopped crying. Some part of Clark was thankful that Damian was such a silent crier but a much larger part of Clark was concerned about why that was.

“I hate him,” Damian choked out between sobs.

“No,” Clark crooned, trying to soothe the boy.

Damian looked up with red-rimmed eyes. “He- he-,” he stuttered out.

Rubbing Damian’s back, Clark asked, “What did he do?”

“He locked my Netflix so I could only access the KIDS area,” Damian lamented, blubbering.

Clark did not merit that with a response. He simply pulled out his phone and called Bruce. “Missing any ten year-olds?” he asked.

Bruces cursed and said, “This is because I stopped him from watching House of Cards.” The phone speakers crackled as Bruce sighed. “Can you bring him home when you come over for dinner?”

“I have to go back to work and I’m not leaving Damian in my apartment and I’m sure as hell not bringing Damian Wayne back to the Daily Planet,” Clark replied.

“Then come over now. Say you’ve got an exclusive interview with Bruce Wayne,” Bruce replied. 

Clark paused, considering. “Can I actually interview you?”

“Are you actually writing an article about me?” Bruce retorted.

“Yes,” Clark answered. 

Bruce snorted. “Anything for my favorite reporter. Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“For the love of god, do not tell me what the article is about.”

Clark laughed, startling Damian who eyed him suspiciously. “I can promise you that.”

“So are you taking me home yet or are we just going to sit on your couch in your million degree apartment?” Damian asked. He’d pulled out his own phone and started playing some sort of tapping app. 

“Didn’t you grow up in the desert? Shouldn’t you be used to the heat?” Clark asked. “And yes. We’re going over to Wayne Manor next.”

“I grew up in the mountains and there was air conditioning. Do you really think that Ra’s al Ghul would have resurrection pits but not central heating and cooling?” Damian retorted. His phone buzzed as he beat his own personal record on the game. 

Clark phoned White next. “Sorry I left so early. Just got word from Bruce Wayne that he approved an interview so I’m heading to Gotham right way.” He hung up before his boss could even get a word in sideways.

The Wayne Manor was like a second home to Clark in the same way that the Batcave was like a second home to Superman. No matter how much time he spent in other places, he always ended coming back to the Wayne Estate.

That night Bruce and Clark ate dinner on the balcony overlooking the front lawn. Damian had already amade his excuses and went off to play with Titus. He had phrased more along the lines of needing to train that floppy excuse of a dog into a battle ready canine but Clark knew how to read through the bluster.

Bruce was still picking at his food when Clark pulled out a notepad. At the sight of it, Bruce groaned.

“You promised,” Clark reminded him. “And I really have only one question.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, a spark of interest in his eyes, “You? Only one question? Sure.”

In his best most professional voice, Clark asked, “Are you romantically involved with anyone right now?”

Bruce laughed, “Do you think I would be eating dinner with you if I was?”

“I would hope so,” Clark replied, offended. “I am your best friend.”

“The answer is no and you can quote me on that.”

 

Even after Clark added the quote to the article, White refused to approve. “This isn’t you best work. You should go talk to Strayner. You better hope that he’s gotten better because I don’t want to strong arm this article out of you if I don’t have to.”

 

Strayner was still too high on pain meds to be any help but the nurse says he’ll be released in two weeks so if Clark could wait that would be much appreciated.


	3. In Which Clark's Ice Cream Is Stolen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle approached. “How long have you known Bruce Wayne?” he asked in the same way a reporter questioned the hot, young wife of a recently deceased, rich, old man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess that means I'm three for three. I'll probably (hopefully) finish this story with the fourth chapter, posted hopefully tomorrow.

In the meantime, Clark spent most of his time mediating between Bruce and Damian. Clark could count on one hand how many dinners he had sat through that didn’t involve a cryptic and passive aggressive argument. There was also a bit more lying to both parties than he was comfortable with in attempts to get Bruce and Damian on talking terms before the next morning. Both were forced, in the end, to accept Clark’s word because out of the three of them, he was the only one who grew up with a father. And after sometime, Clark thought that perhaps the two of them were getting better. Still, he worked to keep the peace.

His efforts culminated in a trip to Metropolis zoo. 

The car ride was full of Bruce preaching the evils of zoos and Damian complaining that he had already see most of the animals in their natural environment. Of course, the minute they got through the gates, the Waynes were enchanted. Perhaps it was Clark’s own enthusiasm that inspired him. 

Clark loved the big city zoo in a way that only farm boys from Kansas could. It didn’t matter that Superman had been around the world and into outer space. All the exoticsm that Clark Kent needed was in his local zoo.

“I’ve discovered something worse than keeping animals in cages,” Bruce commented while they were at the gorilla exhibit.

“Yes?” asked Clark. He was distracted by Damian trying to talk to a gorilla using sign language. The boys efforts were met with middling success.

Bruce leaned in and whispered in Clark’s ear, “Children on leashes.”

Clark tilted his head back and replied in the same hushed tone, “Batman should take up the cause.” Both of their gazes turned to a mother guilty of the crime and they shared a huff of amusement. 

A small but solid mass slammed into Clark’s back. “You two are so gross. Can’t you wait until you aren’t in public?” Damian complained loudly. In a quieter tone he added, “I have no idea how you’ve kept up a secret identity this long.” He continued to complain through the rest of the monkey exhibits and refused to cease until Bruce bought all of them ice cream.

 

Perry was waiting at Clark’s desk the next morning. “Explain this,” he said, dropping a picture in front of Clark.

Clark picked it up and examined it. He blushed almost instantly. It was from that visit to the zoo. Damian was perched on Clark’s shoulder enjoying Dippin’ Dots. Clark was commenting on something in the distance with his face in profile and one arm outstretched and pointing. Bruce, however, was not looking at whatever animal Clark was indicating and was instead leaning over to steal a bite of Clark’s strawberry ice cream. 

Clark knew that unless it was pointed out that the man with Bruce Wayne was Clark, White would never be able to tell. Whatever combination of expensive clothing, better posture, and sunglasses he had worn that day made it hard for even Clark to identify the man as himself. But who else could it be? Not to mention that Clark half-remembered the moment.

Lois must have heard the commotion because she suddenly appeared at Clark’s right side. “Cute picture of you,” she commented. “Very domestic.”

White dramatically turned to Lois. “Are you saying that this is a picture of Kent at the goddamn zoo with Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham?” he asked in a dangerously calm voice.

“Yes,” Lois replied cheerily. She disappeared as quickly as she had appeared, not so coincidentally leaving Clark to explain himself.

“I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that no one is dating Bruce Wayne and that I just happen to take my reporting very seriously,” Clark said. He sat down in front of his computer and resolutely did not look back up at White.

The man stalked off, muttering, “That goddamned Clark Kent.”

As soon as White had returned to and entered his own office, Kyle approached. “How long have you known Bruce Wayne?” he asked in the same way a reporter questioned the hot, young wife of a recently deceased, rich, old man.

“Almost twelve years,” Clark answered without really thinking. The moment the words left his mouth, he winced internally.

“Really? Holy shit,” Kyle replied. “Dude, does this mean you could get into any Wayne party you wanted?” Kyle leaned far too close into Clark’s personal space. “Does this mean you could get me into one of these parties?” Kyle peered closely at the picture still sitting out on Clark’s desk like a beacon. “Wow, how well do you know this guy?”

“I only go to Wayne parties when I have a press pass. Just like every other reporter in this building and every other reporter in the world. I actually dislike going to those parties because I personally don’t want to spend my evenings in a tux making smalltalk,” Clark said. “Now don’t you have work to do?”

Kyle slunk off, disappointed but Clark would be that the younger man was now plotting something.

Just before lunch, Clark’s phone went off, the incoming number unlisted. He immediately answered. 

“Hello, Clark Kent speaking,” he said. Clark was tempted to ask which of the Waynes he was talking to but he didn’t want to broadcast more of his association with the family to whole office again.

“Bruce is pissed,” came Dick Grayson’s reply. “I don’t know what happened but Alfred warned me to steer clear of the manor for a few days and by Alfred I mean Damian impersonating Alfred because that damn kid refuses to actually acknowledge he cares about me.”

Clark sighed. “Thanks Dick. I’m almost off for lunch so I can go check on him in a minute.” Clark wondered what happened to set Bruce off. Was it the embarrassing picture that know sat on Clark’s desk or was it the awful invasive article that Clark had tried to write? Nothing had seemed off with Damian the night before or this morning. He was suitably concerned.


	4. In Which Clark Is A Good Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce, once again ignoring him, sighed and said, “I forgot my drink.” He looked at Clark and added, “You forgot yours as well.”  
> “I drank all of your bourbon anyways,” Clark answered.  
> Bruce nodded slowly. “I probably would have spilled on the bed anyways.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter. thinking about a sequel. maybe in the future. who knows?

“Was that Bruce Wayne?” Rayner asked, popping out like a jack-in-a-box. A habit of his and an annoying one at that.

“No, that was one of his sons,” Clark snapped. He was too worried about Bruce to try and filter with Rayner right now. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”

“Nah, I probably shouldn’t be prying.” Rayner shrugged, acting nonchalant.

“Mind telling Lois that our lunch plans are canceled?” Clark asked.

Rayner said, “Sure,” in a way that made it sound like that Rayner and Lois were still going out to eat and now the topic of conversation was going to be Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne.

 

Clark exited the offices of the Daily Planet with more than his usual walking speed. Faster than a blur, Clark was out the doors and already heading across the bay towards Gotham. It was strange to Clark that two completely different cities could just be across a small body of water. He was from the Midwest, though, where you had to drive three hours to find the next hamlet. 

There was something thrilling about flying through Gotham. The gothic architecture presented a much different obstacle course than any in Metropolis. Metropolis also lacked the chance of being hit by the Batjet which had happened and had been much too embarrassing to ever bring up or mention to Bruce. 

During his usual morning commute, Clark tended to fly over the highway and not through the twisting streets and alleys that comprised Gotham. It added some time to his morning but when you measured time in milliseconds, it was almost unnoticeable. Now, out of concern for Bruce, Clark had taken the most direct route between the office of the Daily Planet and the Wayne Manor.

 

Bruce threw a vase at his head the moment Clark entered his room. “Oh, it’s you,” Bruce said, focussing on his face. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Dick called. He’s worried about you. And Alfred just sent me up without even offering a drink,” Clark answered. “Judging by the vase you just tried to decapitate me with, they are rightfully concerned.”

Bruce slumped at his desk. “Another police officer died. One of Jim Gordon’s special ops. I saved her life last week and now she’s dead.”

“You save all of Gotham every other week,” Clark said. “But you can’t protect every single person.” If Clark was anyone else, he would have added “you aren’t Superman” but he knew very well the weight on Superman’s shoulders and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Bruce growled. “There must be something more to it because this isn’t like you.” Clark gestured to the vase and the bourbon and the way that Bruce’s hackles were raised in reaction to him.

“It was another one of those Batman lookalikes. He got too handsy with a gun and bam, there she goes,” Bruce said. He slumped backwards and picked at his sleeve, avoiding Clark’s gaze heavy handedly. 

“And?” Clark prompted.

Bruce muttered something, “Fuck this” and Clark cleared his throat. “It was Kate’s girlfriend.”

“I thought they were broken up right now,” Clark commented. 

Bruce continued as if he hadn’t heard Clark. “Kate knew that she was going to be out of town this weekend and specifically asked me to keep on eye on Renee and now Renee is dead.” Clark picked up Bruce’s bourbon and drained the decanter. 

Holding it up, Clark asked, “Should we adjourn to a more comfortable location?” 

Bruce stood unsteadily but walked confidently across the room to his bed which he fell face down on. With a groan, he rolled up and over so he was leaning against the headboard. The bed itself was small and plain but no doubt high quality. Bruce patted the spot next to him.

Clark hesitantly clambered onto the bed next to his friend. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” he said. In truth, he had hoped to get Bruce out of his room and into a more neutral territory.

Bruce, once again ignoring him, sighed and said, “I forgot my drink.” He looked at Clark and added, “You forgot yours as well.”

“I drank all of your bourbon anyways,” Clark answered.

Bruce nodded slowly. “I probably would have spilled on the bed anyways.” He shifted so his head was on Clark’s shoulder. Carefully, Clark wrapped his arm around Bruce’s waist. Ever so slightly, Bruce arched up into the contact. 

“There was nothing you could have done. I wasn’t there. I don’t know anything about the situation. But above all else I can assure that you did everything in your power to try and save Renee because that’s the type of man you are,” Clark assured Bruce. As he spoke, his fingers drew intricate patterns against Bruce’s side.

Bruce chuckled softly. “That feels prewritten. Spend all of your time thinking about me?”

“Saving the world,” Clark responded. “I think about that.”

“No,” drawled Bruce. “That’s something that we do together. When you save the world, you think about me.”

“I think about work,” Clark said.

“And work means that article about me,” Bruce retorted. “So I’m right. You think about me all the time.” Of course it was true. Of course Batman was fucking right. When wasn’t Batman right? When was Bruce Wayne not a little bit too insightful when assbackwards drunk? When wasn’t Superman thinking about Batman? When wasn’t Clark Kent thinking about Bruce Wayne? 

Most importantly, why hadn’t Clark realized this sooner?

Clark tried to laugh it off. “So?” he asked.

“So, that reminds me about something,” Bruce answered.

“What did it remind you of?” Clark asked, dreading the answer.

Bruce pulled at Clark’s jacket, fiddling with a loose thread. “That article you were going to write.”

“Oh,” said Clark. “That. White pulled me off that.”

“Good. Because I really didn’t want to destroy your journalistic professionalism,” Bruce said.

The “Why?” wasn’t even out of Clark’s mouth before Bruce had pressed their lips together. Bruce’s right hand threaded through the back of Clark’s hair and his left clutched at Clark’s shoulder. Clark pulled away.

“You’re drunk, Bruce,” he said, tasting the bourbon on his teeth and his tongue.

“Stay with me until I’m not and then I’ll kiss you again,” Bruce replied. “Please,” he implored.

Clark thought about work and Lois and Rayner and White and the million other responsibilities he had.

“Okay,” Clark promised. “I’ll stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments always welcome!


End file.
